


i will never let you come apart

by valerian



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hand Jobs, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Sweet, bumped the rating up for chapter 9, some are AUs, some are canon compliant, this just took a turn for the ANGST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-23 04:16:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8313673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valerian/pseuds/valerian
Summary: She kisses him again. And again. And again.   And again.





	1. don't you dare.

**Author's Note:**

> 10 one-sentence prompts. 10 drabbles. Mostly dialogue.

“What are you doing back there?”

Camilla puts the finishing touches on Takumi’s new ‘do. “Nothing.” 

“Don’t you dare put flowers in my hair.”

“Sweetheart, you just let me braid it. What further harm could flowers do to your masculinity?”

“Braids…” He thinks for a moment. “Braids are gender neutral. But flowers are obviously girly. Undeniably so.” 

Camilla stifles a laugh. “How old are you, Prince Takumi, that you still believe such things?”

“I’m serious!” 

“Okay, Mister Man.” She tosses aside the peony she had picked earlier and flips Takumi’s braid over his shoulder. “Inspect for yourself. Flower-free.”

“Hm.”

“Yes?”

“I-It’s not bad…” 

She leans forward to kiss the nape of his neck. 

His ears turn red. 

“Wh-what was that for?”

“Oh, no reason, darling. Just a cute little fly I was trying to catch. Still haven’t caught it though.” She kisses him again. And again. And again.

And again.

“Th-That’s one persistent fly,” he mutters, his gaze averted. 

“I’m sorry. Did you want me to set him free?” 

“…No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic title from "All That" by Carly Rae Jepsen. It's a good song. It's completely Takumi/Camilla. 8)


	2. i can't do this anymore.

Clenched fists. Wild eyes. “This isn’t fair to me! _Or_ you. But mostly me.” 

Bewilderment is the only emotion she can process right now. “Whatever do you mean, sweetie?” 

“D-Don’t ‘sweetie’ me!” 

“I apologize—“

“And no more apologies! You’re always full of apologies and being considerate and stuff, but…Princess Camilla—“ Agony all over his face. 

She doesn’t understand it. 

“What’s the matter, Prince Takumi? Tell me. _Please_. I can’t help you if you don’t—” 

“I love you.” 

Her jaw drops. “What?" What? "Wh-What—“

“But you don’t love me.” 

“I never—“

“No more kisses. _Please.”_ A trembling sigh, followed by a deep inhale: a drowning man’s last breath. 

“I can’t do this anymore.”


	3. i dare you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I'd step away from tsundere!Takumi and toward anxious!Camilla for a hot second. 
> 
> AU chapter.

“C’mon, Camilla. It’s not _that_ high.” 

“I want you to rethink that thought right now, honey. Or this ring?” She holds her left hand up. “It’s not going to be on my finger long enough for an awkward ring tan. And we’re in Hawaii, my love. I fully expect an awkward ring tan.”

He grins. “I can’t believe you’re threatening divorce two days in.”

She tucks a wanton lock of hair behind her ear. She’s tamed that gorgeous, lilac mane into a ponytail for the day, their “exploring the island and/or having sex on a secluded beach” day. (And, yeah, so what if they’ve already cheated and done the latter, like, four times?

They’re newlyweds.)

“I wasn’t actually threatening _divorce_ , my love. Just death. As in, if you jump off this cliff, you will die.” She sighs, long and breathy. “Who makes a widow of his wife two days in?”

“I might.” He steps toward the edge. Waves crash angrily against the rocks below. 

An anxious hand tugs at his elbow. “ _Takumi!_ I swear to _gods_ if you don’t step back this second—“

He turns to press a kiss onto the corner of her mouth. “Relax, this is nothing. I’ve definitely jumped off worse.” 

“I—That’s not the _point_ , sweetheart!” She stomps a foot, and her concern is absolutely endearing. “You can’t be selfish anymore, Takumi. I am your _wife_ now, for better or for worse! You can’t just—do things without thinking of how it’d affect me!” 

Her tirade has flushed her cheeks a lovely shade of pink. He presses his forehead to hers. “Wow. You _really_ love me, huh?” 

“Yes, of course I do! _Idiot._ ” 

He laughs and reaches for her hand. Laces their fingers. This is the first time she’s ever called him anything remotely derogatory, and he can’t lie. He kind of likes it.

“Don’t laugh. I’m serious.”

“You really, _really_ love me. Alright. Okay.” He gestures behind him. “We’ll jump together then. We can even hold hands the whole time.”

“And drown when we get to the bottom?” She shakes her head. “You haven’t thought this through.”

“Maybe I haven’t. But how about this?” He grins. “I _dare_ you to jump off this cliff with me.”

“We’re not kids, Takumi. Dares mean nothing.”

“But it’ll be fun, I swear! And when we’re done…” He blinks, brown eyes innocent. “We can make love in that cove we found back there.”

“How about we make love in the cove we found back there _right now_ and skip the cliff-jumping altogether?” 

Hm. He scratches his chin. “A reasonable proposition. I can’t deny that it has its merits.”


	4. i miss you so very much.

Dear Camilla, 

The war is over. Hoshido is in the process of rebuilding from the wake of devastation. I’m playing my part as a royal, a prince, and though politicking is not my forte (nor is it Ryoma’s, to be completely honest), I’m finding it extremely instructive and positive to my growth. 

Given that the physical fighting is all but over, save for the occasional need to quell bands of thieves disguised as rebels here and there, I have had a lot of time to think about you. And since you are currently away, I shall express these thoughts to you in this letter, listed out by hand, one-by-one.

One.  I’m still not a child, okay. It’s still not cool to spoonfeed me, or forkfeed me, or even chopsticksfeed me, as difficult as that was with the calamari that one-time and also that other time with the garbanzo beans. I’m a man now, Camilla. 

Just look how tall I’ve gotten, how toned my abs are. Not that they hadn’t been toned before, but there’s a lot more definition now. Anyway, I’m not a child, and I won’t ever be a child, so. As long as you know that.

Two. My swordplay has improved. 

I really don’t think there’s much else to be said on this matter. 

Three. Your younger brother, that know-it-all, is an insufferable twat. But he has his moments and also relatively good taste. I guess. 

So scratch that earlier thought. He’s a twat, but much more sufferable than I had originally given him credit for.

Four. The nightmares aren’t as frequent anymore. They’re bearable, actually, for the most part, though they’re way more realistic than before. 

Where I used to dream of shapeless, intangible, dark monsters with too many limbs chasing me through the woods, I dream now of Sakura being shot through the heart, enemy arrow unflinching and true.

Also Ryoma shot through the heart. Hinoka, too, slipping off her pegasus when it happens, rushing through the air, falling to her doom. 

As I said—

Realistic. 

Five. Where did you go? 

Seriously, Camilla. 

Nobody’s been able to confirm your whereabouts. 

Where’d you run off to? 

Why’d you leave without a trace? 

~~Who’s kissing you good morning?~~

~~ Who’s tucking you in at night? ~~

Are you dead, your body decomposing in the soil, the most beautiful gift of food that dirt’s flesh-eating inhabitants has ever known? 

~~Are you hurting, my love?~~

Are you eating well? 

Are you ill? If so, I would consider spoonfeeding you broth while you lie in bed, as you did me last winter. 

Just come back.

~~ Do you miss me? ~~

~~ I miss you so very much. ~~


	5. i missed you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally lied about the mostly dialogue thing.

Dear Takumi,

I just received your letter, albeit being burned over a candle a fortnight ago. 

It’s alright, my love. It’s okay. 

I missed you. I’m glad you reached out, and it’s a good thing I can still read your words through the tear stains and the ash. For I am in a place where I am omnipotent now, darling. I need nothing material. 

I want for nothing. 

Call it an afterlife if you wish. I’ll call it another opportunity to love you. 

For I do love you, Takumi. I always will. I’ve never committed to loving anything or anyone if I couldn’t do it for a lifetime. 

So I’ll love you the entirety of my afterlifetime. Missing you every day. Waiting for your arrival. 

How are your siblings? 

How are your friends? 

I see that you’ve gotten better with the sword. It seems a tad unnecessary, as you are already so proficient with the bow, but I don’t dislike the idea of you arming yourself to the fullest extent possible. 

You say that your nightmares come less frequently. That’s good to hear. 

I just hope that interspersed between those horrors are images of me, perhaps. Something sweet. Something sensual. Either option can be arranged.

Are you moving on without me? 

~~ From the sound of your words, no, but I want you to. Move on from me.  ~~

~~ Build a life for yourself. A family you can come home to.  ~~

~~ Marry someone loyal and strong, who’ll kiss you good morning and tuck you in at night.  ~~

~~ She can be my surrogate while I’m stuck here, waiting. And hurting.  ~~

Because I am selfish, I cannot say you have my full blessing to do so. But I prefer you have happiness in your life rather than confusion, longing, and fear. 

Forget me if you must. 

I miss you so very much.


	6. i think i broke it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has got me wondering if I could turn this drabble into a longer-fic…

She never breaks things. 

Well, alright. Maybe that’s a lie. 

She might have broken quite a few hearts in her time, maybe.

But physical objects? _Stuff?_

She doesn’t break stuff. Not with all the etiquette and elegance lessons she had to sit through as a kid: books balanced atop heads, tea trays atop open palms, even though Camilla never did have to serve tea. It was just an exercise on how to carry porcelain, be it a teapot or your own, precious body, Camilla. What a gift you have. What an elegant, shapely girl you are!

Carry yourself with your head high, chest thrust out, dear. Yes, yes. Perfect. Just like that!

She had been twelve when she first heard those words. 

And though it’s been ten years since twelve, she still remembers her governess’ instructions (very well).

Back straight, head high, the most radiant smile the world has ever seen. She tries to present herself this way to everybody. 

Even during a war. Even to her enemies. 

And, oh, that’s right! She’s broken the bones of quite a few human beings as well.

And now, to add to her collection, a prince.

And no ordinary prince either. A Hoshidan prince—a (barely) living, (barely) breathing member of her kingdom’s most hated house. 

She touches a booted foot to his limp body. “I think I broke it,” she announces to Leo. “Look at how his leg’s twisted.” 

A grimace on her brother’s face. “You don’t have to be so cruel, Camilla. And I advise you end his suffering now. He’s obviously in a lot of pain.” 

She examines the Hoshidan prince’s face carefully; he’s barely a man…still a _boy_ , really, and he has such beautiful, delicate features! Marred by blood, unfortunately. 

She bends to wipe his face. Defiantly, he shrinks from her touch, but there isn’t any place he can run to, any place he can hide. 

“N-Nohrian… _scum_.” His words are garbled by blood. His breaths are shallow.

“Leo.” She strokes the dying prince’s hair. “I don’t really want to kill him. Can we keep him instead?”

“He’s beyond saving at this point. Why drag out his misery?”

“If we call Elise, I’m sure—“ 

“Leave him, Camilla.” Her brother’s gaze hardens, the light dimming behind his eyes. “If you had wanted to keep him, you shouldn’t have done this.”

“I regret my actions.”

“It’s too late for regrets.”


	7. just let me die.

He can’t believe he’s still alive.

He’s not even the good kind of alive. 

He’s the kind where he’s being held captive by evil, disgusting Nohrians, the kind where he’s literally bound to his bedposts by rope. 

His captor in this awful reality is even a member of the Nohrian royal family! What a joke. And because she’s so high-ranking and not a pea-brained monster, there’s little chance she’ll let him slip through her grasps, from this world into the next. 

Though Takumi, for what it’s worth, does try. 

He refuses to eat. He refuses to drink. He bangs his head against his pillow until he’s transferred to the softest bed possible and a brace is introduced around his neck; he cries and yells and screams well into the wee hours of night.

He tries his best not to sleep either, though it’s difficult, very difficult to fight the level of exhaustion that’s taken over his body.

Then, as his limbs heal and his scars fade by the power of magic, his exhaustion and anger is replaced by anger and boredom. A conscious boredom, of course, because the Nohrian Princess is very much willing to chat with him. She spews all sorts of words his way as she tends to him, nefariously vigilant, spending most of her waking hours at his bedside. 

“Leo and Xander gave me permission to stay with you until you’re better, my dear prince,” she says, fluffing his pillows. “You’re so valuable an asset to us. I’m very glad we decided to spare your pretty little head.” A wicked smile. “You should be too.”

But of course he isn’t glad. Fuck this life. He can’t imagine a future for himself that doesn’t involve his eventual beheading or suicide. He can’t stay here. 

“Just let me die,” he mutters in a moment of weakness. “If you’re really as kind as you’re pretending to be, just kill me.” 

She clucks her tongue and pinches his cheek. The nerve of this woman! 

“I could never do that. You’re too cute to die.”

His face burns with humiliation and shame. He’s always hated being associated with any variation of “cute”: adorable, precious, lovable, “awwww”!

He’s always wanted to be a _man:_  powerful, handsome, rugged, fierce. 

Even as a royal hostage he is not accorded that respect. He has reached the lowest of the low.

“Really,” he begs, voice cracking. Tears threaten the corners of his eyes. He tugs at the silk scarves that have bound both his wrists for a month now. (The Princess switched his ties from rope to silk after she noticed him intentionally chafing his skin raw.)

“No.”

“Then lock me in a cell, like any other prisoner!” He screams. “I don’t want to be here! I _hate_ you!” 


	8. we need to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is angst-free. :)

In bed together, lying in the dark, they enjoy silence for all of three minutes. 

Then he mutters against her neck, “We need to talk.” He tightens the hold he has on her waist and draws her even closer than she had been before. 

She smiles, mostly content. She presses her cheek deeper into her pillow. “What is it, dear?”

“I’ve been doing a bit of thinking lately…” He breathes out; his breath tickles her ear. 

“We all do that from time to time, love.” 

He chuckles. “Yeah, well. This is _real_ thinking….” He trails off. 

She turns so that she is facing him and traces the lines of his face that are visible by the light of a single moonbeam, shining strategically through the curtains of the window. “Yes, sweetie? What is it?”

“The war is over,” he begins. “And you are my bride.”

“I am well aware of that.”

He pinches her thigh. “Listen. I just—are you listening?”

She laughs softly and nuzzles her nose to his. “Of course I am, darling. What is it?”

He’s quiet for a bit. Then when he musters up the courage to speak again, he says, “I was thinking that maybe…maybe—maybe it’s time—“ 

“For a baby?” she finishes his sentence. 

He doesn’t reply. His gaze darts to her bosom. It had surprised Takumi a great deal to learn that Camilla often enjoyed sleeping in the nude. He’d always been too much a prude to ever have considered such a salacious possibility for sleepwear.

“I—I mean.” His gaze is pulled up to her face, returning slightly shyer. “Only—only i-if you’d like that too. I mean, I wouldn’t be the one carrying the baby. I wouldn’t know what it’d be like, and I wouldn’t have to suffer childbirth…s-so if you aren’t interested in doing any of that yet, I completely understand, I absolutely do. A-And maybe you aren’t ready to be a parent yet, which is also fine. We’re young still, a-and maybe you—you haven’t even thought about this yet, but I just—have been thinking about family and my role post-war and I—“

She lets him ramble a little bit more. She loves listening to him ramble, words spluttered out in a rush, so awkward. Precious. Human. Vulnerable, too, in a way he doesn’t realize.

But she does. So she lets him talk until he’s really done, trailing off in the middle of a sentence. 

“Okay,” she says. “Let’s have a family.” 

The look on his face, then. She can’t tell if it’s relief or joy or lust or excitement. But she can most certainly feel a palm slide up, up, up her thigh, past the swell of her hips, up the silky side of her belly. 

“Thank you,” he says. 

“There’s no guarantee it’ll happen anytime soon, if at all,” she warns him. “But. It’ll be nice to stop drinking those gods awful tonics.” 

His hand has made it to her breasts. He brushes the pad of his thumb across one of her nipples, which hardens in response to his playing. “They’re that bad, huh?” 

“Men are the lucky ones in this world.” She sighs, then taps her bottom lip with a finger. “I think I need a consolation kiss, sweetie. Give me some sugar.” He hates when she says that. He never wants to kiss her in response to "'give me sugar,' 'cuz it's weird."

But he’s willing tonight. “Men _are_ the lucky ones,” he says after his kiss. “Or. Well. I know _I_ am.”


	9. where are my clothes?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one gets dirty ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

He’s going to be late for an advisory council meeting again, and he’s got nobody to blame but himself. 

It’s just—he keeps letting Camilla do such naughty things to him, and for all the massive amounts of self-control he’s got for every other urge or impulse, he can’t deny Camilla a single thing. 

Not her need to spoonfeed him ice cream, soup, even _rice_ , which should only ever be delivered to the mouth by chopsticks. 

Not her need to stroke his hair and cuddle him through the night. 

He can’t even deny her the silly nicknames, terms of endearment that only get weirder (and more food-related) with each passing day.

Today, he’s late because she had insisted she “rub him down the way you deserve to be rubbed.” 

He had, of course, agreed to it. 

“I think you simply love full-body massages a little too much, my yummy little bonbon.” 

He sighs. _Yummy little bonbon_ is new, and the massage is cancelled halfway through. 

“You’d be hard-pressed to find anybody who isn’t a fan of massages,” he says, reaching for a towel to begin the tedious task of drying _everything._ “I’m going to walk into the meeting smelling like two rose bushes orgasmed all over me.” 

She grins, a brilliantly predatory expression. “I’m very sorry you couldn’t have an orgasm of your own, dear.” Her gaze drops to his unsatisfied erection. “I so very wish I could help you fix that…”

He turns away from her to face the wall. “You can help by not mentioning it. It’ll go away in time.” 

“But it looks so uncomfortable, sweetcakes! And surely you can’t present yourself in a meeting at full-mast,” she drawls.

He grits his teeth as he towels around his boner. He’s very much tempted to just take care of it right here, right now, but gods damn it. A man must have principles!

“I’m really going to be late, Camilla.” 

“Hmhmhm….” That subdued laugh is like velvet. He can hear her slide off the bed and approach from behind.

She props her chin on his shoulder and rests a soft hand over his hard cock. And (surprise, surprise!) he lets her do it. No protest.

“It won’t take too long, honey bun.” The finger that draw circles around the head of his cock is still slick with oil. 

“Camilla…I…” He exhales. He’s so sensitive; he’ll definitely blow soon. “I c-can’t—“ 

She closes her hand around him completely. Mmmmmmmmmmmmm….mmm.

He wonders if he ought to try and hold on for a spell, to try and make a point about his masculinity and his (totally nonexistent) ability to delay his own gratification, for he is a man of _stamina_ and not an absolutely _green_ boy, a boy who’d even come by the force of a gentle breeze, so eager is he for attention, affection, and that sinful, sinful _pleasure…._

But the feeling of her tits pressed against his back? Too much. 

And the feeling of her lips nipping at the sensitive skin of his neck? Too much. 

“Prince Takumi,” she moans into his ear. “You are _soooo_ big in my hand.”

He comes in record time. (The woman knows what she’s doing.)

“Feel better now?” she murmurs. He watches with hooded eyes as her hand reaches for the towel that’s still in his (weak) grasp. She moves to wipe her hand clean, but before she’s _completely_ done, she rubs the remaining bit of his seed between her fingers. 

Then she brings her fingers to his mouth. 

“Would you open wide for Mama…?” 

Sweet gods almighty and above. He groans something desperate and soft, and he thinks he could come again, very soon. 

And because Takumi can’t deny Camilla a single thing, not a single damned thing, (and because it’s really, _really_ turning him on that she’s feeding  _his own cum_ back to him) he takes her fingers into his mouth and tastes himself. 

“Mhmmhmm…” She kisses his shoulder. “Now. I’ve got a meeting myself, darling. Where are my clothes?”


	10. are you even listening to yourself?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to bring Kiragi into this somehow. The fluff is real :')

Kiragi is a light sleeper, while Camilla is a deep one. 

A _deep_ one. Like, somebody who could sleep through an earthquake, an invasion, and maybe the next enormous, expensive war that threatens to tear the continent in two again.

So with Kiragi being a fussy little angel who wakes every hour, and Camilla being a big fan of Beauty Sleep, are you starting to see the problem inherent in these co-existing realities? 

‘Cuz Takumi sure does. Not that Camilla is a bad mother and doesn’t wake to the sound of her baby crying—because she always wakes, always, bleary-eyed and hair mussed and “ohh, baby, shhh. Mommy’s here,” with no complaints. 

Not one.

It just hurts Takumi to hear her lumbering around in the dark on sleep-logged legs to reach for their little baby boy, to pick him up and spend another sleepy minute or ten getting him back to dreamland; then, mission completed, she must lumber again through the dark on her way to the bed. Her following zombie sleep state can only last an hour or so, tops, before she must repeat the cycle. 

A week and a half of this, and Takumi knows he's had enough, because enough is enough:

He decides that _he_ will take care of Kiragi through the night, every night, for at least the first three months of the princeling’s life. And sure, as a dad he won’t be able to meet _every_ single need (ie, he has not and will not ever produce breast milk, thank gods), but he can at least rock his own son to sleep.

Right? 

“Shhhhh, shhhh, shhhh,” he coos over Kiragi’s cries one night. “Don’t cry, Kiragi. Are you even listening to yourself? You’re being so noisy. You’re going to wake Mama.”

A soft laugh sounds from the bed. Then a husky voice adds: “Mmmm…Mama’s awake regardless, darlings.”

“Oh no! Look what’s happened…she’s awake. Mama’s awake.” Takumi strokes his son’s cheek, wiping away tiny tear droplets with his finger. “And who did this, I wonder…”

Camilla chuckles. “There’s no need to scold our baby, darling. He should only ever hear words of love and support from us.” 

Takumi smiles as he carries Kiragi toward the bed. “Then how will this spoiled little boy ever build character?” He plants a big kiss on his son’s forehead. “Scolding was a last resort tactic, I swear. He’s been crying non-stop. He’s probably just hungry.”

Camilla props a pillow behind her back and sits up in bed. When she had moved into Castle Shirasagi, the only demand she had made was that they sleep in a Nohrian-style bed: an enormous thing, with four posts, a canopy, and which reminded her of home.

“Give him here,” she says. 

Takumi sets Kiragi in his wife’s arms, and wow, wow, wow, would you look at that, the little bastard. 

In Mama’s arms, like magic, Kiragi stops crying.

“Unfair,” Takumi mutters, taking his spot upon the bed and pulling the sheets up around his waist. He watches attentively as Camilla loosens her robe and bares her breasts, swollen and enormous beyond expectation (imagination, _possibility,_ even), to Kiragi, to feed their adorable and ravenous sexfruit. 

And for as sacred, pure, and natural as this feeding process is, Takumi is, if he’s to be completely honest, aroused by it. Still. Like some virgin who’s never had the privilege to fuck such a ravishing, radiant woman before. 

(Though, let’s be real here. For anybody to see a woman like Camilla in any state of undress would produce a similar effect.)

It’s just…that body of hers…it had entranced him from day one, when she’d found him in the woods one afternoon, practicing archery alone at a makeshift range. He’d always liked shooting deep in the forest; there was such peace and quiet amid the trees, the only sounds being the rustling of leaves from the wind and by animals, melodic chirping from colorful birds, and the occasional pant or growl.

Nothing Takumi couldn’t handle on his own. 

But Camilla appearing outta nowhere and laying the flirtation on him thick while he was all by himself, with no line of defense? 

It had been a frightening, heart-pounding experience for the Hoshidan prince. She had materialized that afternoon without so much as footsteps to signal her appearance. 

And then she had ambushed him by the full power of her amazing, round, bouncing tits and mysterious eyes. And blinding white smile, too, and all that thick, luscious, lilac hair that fell to her waist—a-and also long, shapely legs and a toned, plum-like butt—

All in all, she had struck him dumb. 

Quite dumb. 

And he had treated her accordingly in their subsequent encounters. Even as she revealed herself to be more than a walking advertisement for  _sex, I want it, I need it with you,_ he had treated her sorta, kinda, really, really _bad,_ up until the last several weeks before his proposal: when he had learned to trust her and decided he couldn't deny his boners any longer. 

He had to have her, body and soul. And despite all the shit he'd given her for being their "enemy" and "Nohrian scum" or whatever, she had agreed to marry him.

So now, sitting in a bed with her and _their son_ in her arms—gods, he truly had managed the impossible, hadn’t he? 

He’d pulled off the ultimate coup and/or come from behind victory (aka, the victory that happened to have, quite literally, produced little Kiragi here).

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs. Takumi’s gaze drifts to Camilla’s face and lingers on her mouth. 

She puckers her lips teasingly. “Shall we kiss?”

He leans into her, pressing their foreheads together. “Yes, please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!!! I'm very happy to have closed this drabble collection out but will be continuing to write Takumilla (Takilla??) through my other, long-form fic. XOXO. Hope to see you there :D


End file.
